#i'm closeted and have therefore experienced no one's reaction at all

[wild-at-mind]

I’ve now read many, many accounts from trans men of being ostracised, treated cruelly and ultimately traumtised by the reaction from their queer communities upon coming out to them. This is clearly something that has happened to a lot of people. I’m not the queer community but we clearly need to fucking do something because this is very dark and sinister.

[thesparklingwriter]

a matter of sickness

'Archons don't get sick, and neither do dragons...'

tags: fem!reader pet names, Zhongli is very pure, soft Zhongli, fem!reader, Zhongli and reader are in a relationship, reader is ill, Zhongli does not know what to do with himself, fluff no plot, author is still very tired

masterlist | ao3 link | taglist | next

please do not repost or edit my work without credit. reblogs are greatly appreciated!

i'm also taking ideas for the rest of the flufftober days, feel free to leave any suggestions in my asks, no matter how self-indulgent they may be

Zhongli has limited experience with illness. Archons don't get sick, and neither do dragons.

However, his pretty human wife does, and he doesn't know how to handle that. Especially when, for some reason, you don't understand that you need to rest.

"Li, please!" you complain between coughs. "I'm fine, really. There's no need for any of this."

He ignores you, propping you up with yet another pillow. He's had no sleep, concerned that your condition had worsened every time you tumbled into a fit of coughs in the middle of the night. He's tired, and therefore cranky, and he's desperate to somehow make you well again. Having a sick wife is putting a type of tension on his shoulders that he has never experienced before.

"If you won't rest, at the very least, stop protesting so you can give your throat a rest." He says curtly, though one look at you has him taking back every word. You're not used to Zhongli being harsh with you and no matter the cause, it always leaves you on the verge of tears. Noticing your reaction, he sits on the bed beside you and strokes your hair. "I'm sorry, love. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that."

You sniff, staring at him with wide, bloodshot eyes. You're exhausted and emotionally fragile as a result of the night of no sleep. You lift your arms so he can pull you into a hug. "It's okay."

"I'm not used to those around me being unwell. I sincerely apologise." you nod into his shoulder, a stray tear escaping, despite the fact he's already apologised. "Please drink some tea."

The first thing Zhongli did when sunlight hit the window was going straight to Dr Baizhu. Mainly because he didn't think he could endure another night of fearing for his wife’s life. After explaining your illness to him, Dr Baizhu laughed at Zhongli.

"You seem to be getting soft," he marvelled. "All for a human."

Zhongli really didn’t appreciate that. He was already stressed since you were on the mountain alone, and now he was being ridiculed by the doctor. He bit back his complaint, grit his teeth and waited for a prescription.

"She just has a common cold. She'll be better in a day or two, provided she rests and drinks lots of fluids. This should help with the coughing." Dr Baizhu said, passing Zhongli a box of tea bags. He thanked the doctor dutifully, not that he truly believed that he had been much help, and ran back home to you, praying you hadn't noticed the fact he was missing. You had.

That was the start of everything going downhill. You'd panicked because you thought something had happened to him, and had worked yourself up, he was tired and annoyed by Dr Baizhu's comments, and the panic in your eyes when you saw him made him regret leaving.

“Li, it’s too hot. It hurts,” you whisper, pushing the cup of tea back to him.

“My love, you have to at least try for me.” He replies, If he could magically make the drink colder for you, he would do it in a heartbeat. But he can't, so he settles for blowing on the drink for you.

You shake your head no, and Zhongli knows better than to scold you again. As tired as he is, he doesn't think he can cope with making you cry again.

"I'm cold," you whine again.

"Maybe you should drink your tea," Zhongli quips. It's been a particularly hot summer, so he'd put the majority of the thicker covers in the closet to keep them out of the way. He pulls out the warmest one he can find, and drapes it over you. You thank him gratefully, but continue to insist that you will not be drinking the tea if it continues to be hotter than the archipelagos in mid-summer at midday. Zhongli laughs at your dedication to your metaphor.

"Are you always so mean to sick people?" You ask. Zhongli sits in bed next to you, and wraps his arms around your shivering body. You feel yourself warming up immediately.

"I'm not accustomed to people who are ill, so I can't answer that question," he says. "Archons don't usually experience human ailments. The only other possibility is corruption, but recovery from that is rare. Especially if it's from the Abyss."

You scowl. "Let's not talk about the Abyss. One of their men gave me this dumb cold. I should have killed him on sight instead of trying to not engage him." You’re not often this open about how you feel about your experiences in combat, so Zhongli supposes that being ill lends itself to callousness.

"You tried to spare a Fatui? How gracious of you." Zhongli marvels. He can't keep up with your moods. Sometimes you seem to want death to each and every single one of them, other times, you're happy to just let them be. You cough.

"Never again. They can all die.”

“Even Childe?” Zhongli teases.

“Don’t talk to me about him. He can die too, for making you do the Fatui’s dirty work.” You move closer to Zhongli, if that’s even possible, another chill running through you. “See? Now I’m getting shivers.”

He laughs, and you feel him shift into his slightly less human form, just as you hoped. He’s much warmer this way—almost as if the sheer power of his archon form radiates heat. Plus, there’s more of him to wrap around you like this. For some reason, his tougher skin somehow feels like velvet against yours, and the tickle of his hair is familiar and soothing. Never has a person ever felt more like home to you. 

“I cannot keep up with your mood swings.” He chuckles. “If I keep you here like this for at least another hour, will you drink the tea then?”

“No.” You reply. You’re nothing if not open and honest, and Zhongli appreciates that. His contracts mean that he has to keep quiet about a great manner of things, but that fact that you have no such problems is of great joy to him. He always knows what’s running through your mind.

When the hour is up, and he feels like the period of resting—as well as releasing his archon form—has rejuvenated him sufficiently, he slide outs of your arms and heads off to the kitchen. Your next complaint, other than being cold or in pain, will most likely be that you’re hungry. You’ll never accept anything unless he’s made it or it came from Wanmin, and Celestial help him if you wake up without him again. He’s barely in the kitchen for five minutes before you come staggering along, barely even awake and dragging your feet across the tiled floor. You press yourself against his back, wrapping your arms around his waist. If he’s surprised by your presence, or how clammy you are to the touch, he doesn’t mention it.

“I need you,” You’re not ashamed by your lack of tact.

Zhongli chuckles. “You have a heater and a blanket in there. I am sure you’ll be fine on your own for half an hour, love.”

“No,” You complain. “Not like that.”

He turns to face you. As much as he loves hearing that he’s as indisposable to you as you are to him, he’s not falling for your antics. He notes that being ill makes you blood-thirsty and boosts your libido somehow. What a strange combination.

“You are sick, and you’re supposed to be resting. It’s a no.” He kisses your forehead to soften the blow of the rejection. It doesn’t work.

“Please?”

“No.”

You huff, and plonk yourself on a dining table chair. “Your wife is sick and you won’t even do the bare minimum to make her less miserable.”

“No no,” Zhongli laughs. “Let’s not go there, hm? You’ve rejected every single attempt I’ve made to lessen your pain.”

“I never asked for those attempts.” You reply indignantly.

“Okay, how about we make a deal? You rest that pretty mouth of yours while I make you something to eat, and when you return to your usual health we can hunt some Fatui down and make them regret making you ill. Is that satisfactory?”

You smile then, the disappointment that his proposal was a slight deviation from what you really wanted disappearing. You loved beating the Fatui to a crisp. Especially when it was a revenge mission.

a/n: can you tell i like brat tamers or is it not clear yet

[alternis]

okay I have had thoughts percolating within my brain about tim drake and his life going to shit like as soon as he stepped out of "normal boy" and into the lives of vigilantes.

this is incredibly rambling steam of consciousness meta bc I can like. Feel the thoughts I'm trying to express but words are hard and typing on a phone is a pain in the behind.

because: Tim was introduced and intended to be a counterpoint to Bruce, as they both had similar backgrounds, and yet Tim had no great personal tragedy compelling him to help others. he simply wanted to do the right thing, in his own clumsy way

but as SOON as he got involved with Bruce he started experiencing personal tragedies at an ever increasing rate. his mother dies, his father is paralysed. he copes. his father wakes up, they have relationship issues, things improve and remain 'stable' for a long while. he gains a stepmother, and a brotherly relationship with dick. he's still the Normal Robin, with school and parents and girl troubles.

but his relationship with his father suffers because he is Robin. jack can see the shape of the secret that lies between them and every time they seem to work things out, they fall apart again. is Robin to blame for it? that one thing Tim must hold back from his father, that his father can see being held back? Jack certainly seems to think so, judging by his reaction when all Tim's obfuscation falls away and Jack discovers his costume (hidden in the closet, something that won't gain any hidden layers of meaning for a good long time)

so tim loses Robin. he does not cope well with being fully demoted to civilian. it chafes at him like outgrown clothes. and the universe punishes him for leaving his role! his schoolmate dies. his girlfriend dies. his father dies and his stepmother is hospitalised until she too dies. his best friend dies and his other best friend dies.

52 happens. he goes away for a year to leave the tragedy behind and recentre himself. he comes back and cass has been brainwashed into being evil and he almost gets a friend killed.

and then Bruce dies.

the universe itself seems to punish him when he tries to stay away from being robin. and then, when he returns to robin he gets bad shit happen to him because that's what happens to superheroes and people who put themselves in danger. danger comes to them. this is a meta thing but, also, is a narrative thread across his life.

and to me it all comes down to one panel.

batman and robin are orphans. therefore, tim drake must become an orphan. the laws of the universe bend around him to give him the motivating trauma he did not have before stepping into his role. causality runs backwards. events happen because of their consequences.

the will of the world demands tragedy.

congratulations on becoming Robin; the red will spread across your body as the blood pools underfoot.

[johnsamericano]

𝓓𝓪𝔂 18:

иα נαємιи

23 days of NCT masterlist.

taglist: @notbeforelong @whathamelon @curieouscapt @silent-potato @gjheaaa @ajhdr @mrcarbonatedmilk @unknown5tar

warnings: Jaemin not knowing what an erection is 😭, fluff, fluff, fluff and angst, not proofread forgive me 😞

“There she is.” Doyoung pointed out, looking directly at you, gracefully walking down the hall. “Her name is y/n, she’s 12.”

“How long will I have to stay with her?” Jaemin stared at you with curiosity.

“If everything goes right, until her soul is ready to abandon her body.”

“What do you mean if everything goes right?”

“There have been some angels who have given into this world’s temptations.” He shut his eyelids, his frown growing deeper as he spoke. “You shall never give into them, Jaemin. I heard loosing your wings causes a great pain, physical and mental.”

“Is there anything else I should know?”

“Never reveal your true identity to her.” His hand gripped Jaemin’s shoulder. “You’ll be able to observe her in your real form, but she’ll never be able to see you, unless you allow her to.” Jaemin nodded, mentally taking notes of all the rules he had to follow. “If you wish to communicate something directly to her, you can disguise yourself as one of her relatives.”

“I have one more question.” Doyoung patiently waited for him to keep talking. “Aren’t guardian angels assigned to humans when they’re born?”

Doyoung remained silent, deciding wether to tell him or not the truth.

“Her former guardian angel fell in love with her.” Jaemin’s eyes went wide, how could an angel fall for a human? “He tried to show himself before her, but we stopped him on time.” Doyoung sighed, a glint of sadness in his voice as he resumed the story. “Unfortunately, he was vanished from heaven. The pain of losing his wings was greater than his love for y/n, greater than his will to live apparently.”

“Well that’s sad.” He pursed his lips. “I promise to do a good job protecting her.”

“I’m sure you will, Jaemin. You’re a good angel.”

“Jaemin, watch out!” His string of thoughts was cut off by your hand around his wrist, tugging on it aggressively to stop him from running into a bike. “Pay attention while walking, you could’ve gotten hurt.”

“Worried about me?” He smiled at your concerned features.

“Shut up before I kick your ass.” Despite your sometimes aggressive behavior, Jaemin knew you were a softie. How could he not know when he literally spent every moment with you, even if you were not aware of his presence sometimes. “Will you come help me unpack after classes?” Your fingers suddenly laced with his, a habit he’d discovered a few months into your friendship and never failed to make his heart race.

“Sure.”

You didn’t expect him to appear at your front door with a bunch of house supplies.

“What’s all this?” You helped him get everything inside your messy apartment. “This is really too much, but thank you.” You pulled him into a hug, your palms stroking his back tenderly.

Jaemin wanted to push you away, he wanted to stop his heartbeat from increasing, but you were intoxicating. It was useless to deny he felt something for you, but as long as nor you or another angel knew, everything would be fine.

“Are you wearing something under your shirt?” You frowned, feeling something shift below your palms.

Jaemin pulled away, internally scolding his wings for trying to show themselves.

“Let’s unpack.” You didn’t mention the topic again, but he knew you weren’t gonna forget about it.

He helped you move some furniture, hang up a few posters and fold your clothes to fit them inside your new closet.

“Wait!” You tried snatching the box of your underwear out of his hands, but it was already too late. He held your red, lacy thong right in front of his face, examining it before realizing what it was.

“Sorry.” His face was flushed as he put the piece of clothing back into the box, a bulge growing inside his jeans. He didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he didn’t care. Truth to be told, he’d never experienced pleasure, therefore, he wasn’t aware of the reaction your thong had provoked in his weak human body.

You didn’t make a comment on it, deciding not to humiliate him. After an hour of folding clothes, you decided to take a break, ordering some takeout food and letting Jaemin pick a movie to watch.

“It’s getting late, you should stay over.” You picked up the remains of your food and saved them in the fridge for later. “You can take the bed, I’ll take the couch.”

“Why don’t we sleep together?” The words slipped past his lips before his brain could register. “I-I mean-”

“It’s okay, as long as you don’t kick me I think we’ll be fine.” You smiled so naturally at him, as if your heart wasn’t rapidly drumming against your rib cage. “I have a few of my brother’s shirts, you can grab one of those.”

He tried calming himself down inside the bathroom. It was the first time he’d sleep with you in flesh and bone, not like he usually did, in his true form with his wings around your body, keeping you warm.

He was expecting for you to crawl into his arms like you usually did in your sleep, but you didn’t even bother to spare him a glance, too concentrated on your phone. A burning feeling started growing inside his chest, definitely not something an angel should feel. He snatched your phone away.

“Hey!” You tried getting it back, accidentally hugging him on the process. “Give it back.” Your nose was almost touching his.

His deep, brown orbs stared into yours, his pupils growing slightly bigger at the sight of your.

“Jaemin...” You whispered, his erratic breath fanning against your cheeks.

None of you moved, afraid to do something you’d later regret. But his lips looked so tempting, so kissable, you couldn’t resist leaning in, your lips almost brushing before you spoke.

“Is this okay?” You were so painfully close. He knew the right thing was to push you away, but how could he when you were looking at him with pleading eyes? Those eyes that made him want to lay the entire word at your feet.

“Yes.” He was the one to pull your face closer to his, bringing his hand to the back of your head to hold you in place, just like the main characters of the corny movies you loved did.

He wanted to cry right there, the thing he’d been fantasizing about all those years was finally happening. For a moment, he stopped thinking about his wings, stopped worrying about the fact that he’d probably be punished for his sinful actions.

“Your lips are so soft.” He whispered, cupping your cheeks with delicacy pulling away only to leave random pecks on your lips, enjoying the warmth of them. “Like small, pink clouds.”

You giggled at the comparison.

“I like you, Jaemin.”

“I like you too, y/n. So much.” He wanted to say ‘I love you’ but he figured out it might be a bit to early for you.

He continued savoring your lips, pecking them as if he was trying to memorize every little texture of your plump skin. Your hands went to his sensitive back, unknowingly caressing the spot were his wings were hidden.

It all happened too fast, his large wings ripping through the borrowed shirts and showing themselves to you. The look on your face was of pure shock, your arms falling limp to your sides as Jaemin’s stomach stirred with fear.

“Y/n...” He called you at least five times, your eyes fixated on the silky, white feathers.

It was all too much to process. Was he pranking you? No, fake wings wouldn’t move the way his did.

“Say something, please.” You noticed how his wings fell slightly, as if mimicking his emotions.

Drops of salty tears falling into your cheeks awakened you from your trance, your best friend crying on top of you as his hands held your face dearly.

“How?” Was the only thing you could pronounce, your mind still trying to work through the situation.

“I know this looks bad, but I swear, I never meant to deceive you. I wanted to protect you from afar, but I couldn’t resist meeting you. You’re the brightest human I’ve ever seen, and I don’t deserve to be with you. I am a liar, a cheater who used his powers to get into your life.” He began rambling, your mind slowly connecting the dots until you finally had an idea of what he was.

“An angel?” You asked, voicing your inner doubts.

“I don’t deserve to be your guardian...” He ignored your previous question, tucking his face in your neck.

His wings timidly pressed against his back, moving the slightest as your fingers danced over them, mesmerized at the soft texture.

“I feel like I’m dreaming.” Your voice didn’t sound angry, in fact, he could almost see your smile as you spoke. “Aren’t you going to get in trouble for this?” Your hands forced his face up, making him face You. “I don’t want you to get in trouble, Nana.”

“They might’ve found by now, but it doesn’t matter anymore. I am willing to lose my wings as a punishment for those amazing moments I’ve spent by your side.”

He was about to incorporate, about to leave you and never come back, but the sudden crash of your lips against his had him frozen at the spot.

“I don’t want you to get in trouble...” You whispered against his lips. “But neither do I want you to leave me. I'm a selfish human that wants her angel to give up everything for her, I'm sorry.”

He smiled, euphoric at the words he'd only heard in his wildest dreams.

“Then I guess I'll have to oblige.”

Jaemin spent the night curled up with his loved human, wings protecting her from any danger while Doyoung watched everything with confusion. He knew it was the right thing to punish the young angel for his sinful actions, but there was nothing sinful at the unfolding scene. If anything, it was the purest thing he'd seen from his vast years on earth.

“Good luck, Jaemin.” The black-haired left unnoticed, letting his friend fulfill his duties as your guardian angel until the last breath of life left your body.

[elhoimleafar]

Judge and attack a traumatized person for acting distrustful? Are we expecting a normal reaction to an entirely abnormal situation? Seriously?

Ej: Britney Spears vs Christina Aguilera/Xtina. #TraumaSurvivor

So I'm not a psychoanalyst, but a little analysis here for everyone, taking this recent "Britney Spears vs. Christina Aguilera" incident as an example.

Britney Spears was under terrible, unfair (and entirely illegal) full custody for the last 13 years, the Media only made everything worse, and she, being the victim, was accused of being a drug addict (by the same people who kept her drugged), an overworked woman with no time for her children (for her own team who depend financially on her), and accused constantly to "act crazy" (even for her same father).

13 years. We are not talking about her being locked up in custody for a week or two, for a couple of months, for a semester, or for a few years. This woman was inhibited of her civil rights and human rights for 13 years of her life, during these 13 years, she was constantly separated from her children (who were used to manipulate her and force her to work because if she did not do more concerts they would not allow her to see them ), she was forced to work for years on things that she did not want to participate in, she was even practically forced to record a song with her sister, whom all her fans know, they have not had a good relationship for many years.

This woman was used by the media to sell more, she was used by her parents (yes! Both) to produce more money for themselves, by her brothers, who used Britney's money as they saw fit, and by her manager and team . All insistently calling her "crazy" publicly, and "mentally unstable", yet conveniently not unstable enough to offer four concert tours (of about two hours a night) and two consecutive residencies in Vegas. But, Mentally unstable right?

Christina Aguilera, who for 13 years was not in communication with Britney (not that we know of) only spoke about it a couple of times, a post a few months ago, and in some radio show where she offered a quite diplomatic response, and not it is for less, because at the end of the day, she can defend herself saying "this is not my business" and it is a valid option, it does not have to be.

Now, Lady Gaga, has publicly shown her support to Britney Spears on several occasions, even writing songs for her, attending her concerts on more than one occasion, allowing herself to be photographed together on every possible occasion (that's one of the ways you show your support for others publicly), and even interacting with her on social media.

Clearly from the eyes of a person (Britney Spears) who is being enslaved by her own family and deprived of her human rights, even without access to her cell phone, this other artist (Gaga) who has been there physically, is going to be noticed. as someone who is offering their support, rather than someone who has only spoken publicly a couple of times.

And no, (my point of view being more personal here), from my point of view as an immigrant from a country in crisis, as a homosexual man who came out of the closet and was therefore taken from his own home in a country where homophobia takes over the lives of five individuals every week and they rarely even make the news, I know very well that a post written on social media of "I support you" represents absolutely nothing, makes absolutely no difference beyond a bit of momentary noise , and makes the owner of the post look like a hero, and that I have personally experienced many times, for example, when I came out of the closet at home, some other cousin or aunt posted on their facebook wall "in this house everyone You are welcome, as God intended, in this house we are all the same ", regardless of that post, I was sleeping outside a public bench covering myself with cardboard in the rain. I go back and repeat, a post, it does not make any difference, but you are there physically present?.

Now what is everyone missing?

We have read for 13 years, and especially in the last six months, about all the abuse and mistreatment (physical, psychological / emotional, and even financial) that Britney Spears has been a victim of.

And even so, we prefer to act indifferently before it, and judge her because she does not trust the words of someone who has not been there physically present for her at any time. We take a person who has been a victim of the media and of her own family for the past 13 years, an entirely traumatized person, and we judge her because she is acting "abnormal" in a situation that is not normal.

It is not fair, it is not moral, it is not correct, and it is not ethical, to expect normal reactions as a result of abnormal situations, especially when the Media is in the middle, and when the actor in the play is just beginning (Again) to share their own opinions publicly.

This is a healing period for a traumatized person who has been betrayed and stabbed in the back by every individual in her inner circle.

Is it seriously correct to judge this person?